Antarctic Requiem
by Will This Night-Drag-On
Summary: Antarctica just wanted Arctic back. Australia was willing to help. OCxOC, Shonen-Ai, OOC, OCs.
1. Chapter 1

Ok...this is the first chapter of Antarctic Requiem. Currently at 1672 words. Unfortunately, I don't own Hetalia, I don't own Antarctica (the country), yet I do own Antarctica (the person).

I thought about writing this for a while, yet didn't fully re-start it until a week ago, so it was kinda sitting and collecting dust in my laptop. Yeah...longest thing I've ever written...

Well, hope you enjoy!

Also, please nit-pick this like Hell, and tell me how to improve...please?

* * *

On the 28th June, in an unspecified year, Sharma Kirkland died in Alfred F. Jones' house in California, at 9:19 pm on a Saturday, with a heavy curtain of sweat all over him. This was immediately found 'interesting' by the people of America and the world, yet tragic to those few souls who knew him. He was assumed to have sweated to death, rather weird, yet it was gobbled up by the audiences like China's cooking.

And on the 28th of June one year later, a man was grieving.

Exactly one year ago, Antarctica lost his best friend Arctic, thanks to the stupidity of humanity. He blamed then all for not doing something for the cold nation, the only one who was like him. A Pole. Arctic had given Antarctica a name, which he had immediately dropped after the death of Sharma, and caught the earliest plane to Argentina, before going on a boat trip to his icy home in the south.

Antarctica had mourned for absolute days while the rest of the world puzzled the death of Sharma Kirkland, and grew pity for the total meltdown of the North Pole, bothering not to do in the direction of apologies and promises and pathetic diplomatic meetings full of rubbish. The nation-people held a small funeral, mainly for stupid political reasons, as no-one wanted to be on the bad side of a nation who belonged mainly to another nation who had ties to a certain former delinquent who could potentially get others involved, while the Antarctic nation was one who could whip out a spiked boot and pick-axe faster than you could say, 'Multi-Cultural'.

So here Antarctica stood, months later, in the middle of a blizzard in winter, tears forming into ice every time they left his eyes. He missed the Arctic nation. He missed the conversations they had. He missed the unfair chess matches with General Winter. He even missed the teasing of Australia. People had left him alone to grieve and mourn, and aside from that, they could not withstand the cold like he could, and fled before becoming frostbitten.

Australia. Was he worried? He said he'd visit soon. Had he lied? Or was he waiting for winter to ease its grip on the Antarctic continent? Antarctica so dearly hoped so.

He shook his head. His thoughts were all over the place. He'd have to relax and wait for summer. That'd be the best thing to do for now. Catch up on research, sleep, drink, eat, wait and live. Nodding to himself, he pulled his clothes, simple red and black gear for low temperatures, pushed his glasses up his nose, and went back to the deserted research facility. He could feel the wind tease his medium-length black hair back from his head to nip at his scalp, sending avalanches of cold rocketing down his spine and head. He shivered, and continued on.

When Antarctica was back in the research facility, he firstly removed his glasses and cleaned then gently, before placing them in their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. After all, he wouldn't want to lose the area Mawson's Hut was in.

The next thing he did was hobble over to his bed, take off his glasses again, and fell asleep.

The next day brought no comfort. It was still as black as night, and he still had experiments to do, things to check up on, and time to kill. He hobbled his way over to the kettle, flipping the switch and leaning against the table. He drifted into his thoughts, ones of ice and snow and British flags and ships, The Antarctic Treaty signing, and of the ever growing hole above him.

A sharp squeal tugged him sharply out of his thoughts, and he quickly flipped off the kettle, and poured the hot water into the mug that was permanently there, always with a tea-bag in there. Quickly dumping the tea-bag in the bin, he took a long sip, and sighed.

Just another month and a bit. Antarctica could hardly wait.

SUMMER

Antarctica had practically jumped out of bed on the first morning of Summer, eager for the first day of which the brave would come to his land to study, and research his vast stretch of ice and earth.

Of course, he was also excited, because now he could look forward to Australia coming over, and now he could await the news that would follow Australia behind like sheep to the Sheppard. But for now, Antarctica could just enjoy the fact that people were arriving, and that that feeling of emptiness would nearly evaporate. He wondered for a second if that was how Russia felt, that loneliness, when the Baltics and Ukraine and Belarus left him. For that brief moment, he felt sorry for Russia, but that was erased by the happiness that came with the arrival of people and promises of human contact, ones that differed from the penguin contact he got, and different than the seal and whale contact that also came with summer.

'_Maybe Weddell will be with the group this time', _He thought happily, thinking of the little fur seal that came with the changing of seasons.

*^%#%*&^)&^&

Australia hopped off the boat at the base of Mawson, and immediately shivered at the cold. How could Antarctica stand it? He shook off the thought, and ran with full speed towards the small house in which would hold Antarctica. Knocking thrice on the door, he stood back, a happy smile on his face. The door swung open to reveal the Antarctic country, all reds and blacks in contrast to the pale blues and whites of his home. A smile spread across Antarctica's face.

"Australia! I thought you forgot about me!" He laughed, hugging the taller man around the neck.

Australia hugged him back, "How could I forget about you? I'm sure you missed me?" A small smile was his answer, and a gesture for him to go into the hut.

The place hadn't changed. The tea mug was still there; ready to go with a teabag. The rectangular dining room was still as small as 7x9 metres, if his estimate was correct, with a foot on both longer walls being taken up by bench. A small table was in the middle, with two plates in front of two chairs. Antarctica moved out of the small kitchen, flicking on the light switch to the next room as he went on.

The next room was larger, but seemed smaller than it really was. Most of the room on the walls was taken up by maps and desks and equipment and computers, and from what Australia could see, every one of them was doing something different, except for the laptop. He knew that laptop well. It had been one of Arctic's gifts to Antarctica, completely blue with a seal sticker on it, and another custom sticker of Sharma and Antarctica on it. The small laptop was closed, and a thin layer of dust covered it.

The rest of the room was simply a bed with a blue quilt on it. Australia guessed that there must be more covers under there, judging by how cold it was. The next door in the room, if he was not mistaken, led to a bathroom. Australia's eyes turned back to Antarctica, who smiled softly and sat down on the bed. Taking this as an invitation, Australia followed him, and collapsed on the bed. The two laughed, and then slowly lapsed into silence.

Australia was the first to talk, "How've you been?"

"Good," was his reply, "But I've been thinking lately. About us nations. Why do we exist? Think about it. We're just puppets, played by the hands of billions of puppeteers. We hardly affect them, yet if they suddenly launch nuclear missiles, we're doomed. You saw Arctic, and you see Prussia. Prussia can hardly do anything without Germany, and Arctic...Sharma is as dead as my fate. I may not be as old as you, Australia, but you forget, my land may have split off the great lands of Gowanda and Pangaea, but my ice, my ice is as ancient as Arctic. Arctic was thinking for himself, making plans and thinking about the primates that inhabited our lands. There were two Antarctics. Ice, and myself, the combination of Ice and Land. And all the while through this lonely, lonely Winter, I thought. And I realized we are just sheep to the Sheppard that are our people and governments."

Australia nibbled on his lower lip. "You've thought about this a lot...And what do you mean by 'lonely'? You have people who stay here throughout Winter!" Antarctica said nothing. Australia sighed.

"Look, the real reason I'm here is to give you something," Australia dug around in his pockets, and pulled out a plane ticket, "Catch a boat to Argentina, tell Argie 'Hi' for me, and then go to the airport, and catch the plane. Someone will be on the other side, and they will greet you."

Antarctica looked solemn, "This Winter has been lonely because people have been smart, and avoided my lands. But...why come all the way out here, just for plane tickets? Couldn't you send them by boat?" He gently took the tickets from Australia's hand, "It appears that I need to pack..." And he went to the small chest of drawers, pulled out all the clothing, and stuck them into a suitcase. He then proceeded to go into the bathroom and grab a few necessities, and then went to the laptop, packed it and its various cords up. He looked back over his shoulder. "See you. I'll pick up Weddell if I see him, and get him and me some food."

Australia looked after him, and shook his head. _Mawson...you didn't used to be so...strict...what happened to the fun Antarctica that I used to know, that helped pick out Sharma's name after a fight about him, which resulted in calling him 'Stupid, human loving, ice eating Sharman'? What happened?_

* * *

Wow...that completely sucked...And the failed attempt at a cliffie...*shivers*

Well, now that that's cleared up, please don't flame. Please. Constructive Criticism accepted. Actually, please check through every single little thing to tell me how I can improve...Please?


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Antarctica did when he got off the boat at Ushuaia in Argentina, was catch a taxi to the airport, quickly stuffing Weddell, whom he had found, into a cage that was used for carrying small dogs or cats. The Fur Seal had protested heavily, claiming that he hadn't been fed yet, and spewing out other random nonsense. Antarctica had simply stuffed a fish in there, along with a few toys to keep the seal occupied until he got to his destination, which according to his ticket was England.

"Why England?" He muttered as he went up a place in line, "Out of all the places Dan could think up, why England?"

After finally getting up in line, arguing with the receptionist about taking Fur Seals on board (that argument was ended when he remembered that the Fur Seal would be whining, and quickly stuffed the cage into her arms saying quickly to take him to the luggage, which spawned a new argument), who had also claimed that he couldn't take pick-axes and spiked boots with him (which was nonsense!), and getting through the airport scanners and finally getting onto the plane, Antarctica decided to just plug in his headphones and listen to music. And get a cup of hot chocolate or tea, or both, if his headache was anything to go on.

The flight, in short, was long. Nearly 24 hours on a plane with about 50 other people would do that to him. He had somehow survived off fish and highly caffeinated drinks, leading the woman next to him to give him weird looks, and shuffle her child a bit further away from him. Judging by her accent and pronunciation on certain words, she had been obviously American. He smiled kindly at her, mentally asking her to stop looking at him. She finally did when she drifted off to sleep, accidently leaving her tickets and itinerary on tray. He glanced over them, wondering why she travelled from America, to New Zealand, then to Papua New Guinea, then to a small island in Indonesia, then to Argentina, from which she was continuing on to England then Canada, then finally back home.

"Must be a human thing," he murmured, "I feel sorry for the child, and for her pocket. It's going to have a massive hole in it..."

And thus, the flight continued much like that, though now filled with snoring and the annoying air-attendants constantly going around and gossiping in their high-heels and skirts, mostly about some random problem that America has done that has affected some other near-by nation, who was the going to rely on another country, and then become that country's territory. It was a common occurrence now-a-days, one which meant that all of the smaller countries fell back on the larger ones, before then becoming that country's. Sad it was, leaving really only the large nations with strong economies.

'Like a domino effect. You stack 'em up just to see the cookie crumble into a messy powdery goodness!' That was what Sharma had said, right?

A bell sound rang, and the seatbelt light went on.

"Good afternoon, this is your captain speaking. We are about to land at London Airport, where the time is 5:30 am, so please go back to your seats and tighten your seatbelts for landing. Also turn off all electrical devices, including mobile phones, and game devices. Thank you for flying with us today, and I hope you've enjoyed the flight."

Antarctica looked at the women next to him, and silently concluded to let her continue sleeping, and leave the already-awake child to wake her mother up. He slowly got his seat into an upright position, and closed his eyes. Sleep, his body commanded it...

About five minutes later, Antarctica was awoken by a tug to his sleeve. He tilted his head to see the little girl, all large eyes and yellow dress. She cocked her to the side, and smiled. Antarctica raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?" He asked

"What's your name?" She asked, smiling widely, "I'm Eliza."

Antarctica frowned. He'd abandoned his human name when _that_ happened, but a temporary one should suffice.

"Allen," He said. Yes, that should do.

The girl's smile went down a bit, "That's not your name, is it? You can't fool me. Mummy says so."

He frowned, "My name is my name, and thus you shouldn't know unless I want you to."

"Well, where are you from?" She asked. '_She's so full of questions..._'

"A very cold place," She frowned at the answer, and opened her mouth to reply. She was interrupted by the aeroplane wheels touching down on the tarmac. The jolt knocked the girl's mother out of sleep, who quickly straightened herself out, and pulled her daughter into an upright position. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, a disapproving look of slight anger. He nodded at her. She glared.

And then, the plane rolled into the terminal. The mother looked left and right, quickly un-buckling her and her daughter. She slid out of her seat, and took away her overhead luggage. As she led Eliza out, the little girl turned back with a smile on her face.

"See you Allen!" She yelled, and ran in front of her mother, who gave another glare back.

Antarctica smiled slightly, "Bye!" _'What a nice child!'_

He slid out then, taking his own overhead luggage and travel mug, and frowned at the numerous sweet wrappers all over the floor. Those poor cleaners, he felt sorry for them, but that would be easier than the large hamburger that he could see over the other side of the plane.

As he walked out, he could yet again see Eliza, happily chatting with an older man, who looked old enough to be her Grandfather.

'_Maybe that was what the trip was about?'_ He shook his head. That was none of his concern.

After moving past the terminal to the small shops, he stopped off at one of the smaller cafes to fill up his travel mug before going to pick up his luggage at the carousel. It took longer than it should have, which annoyed him to no end as the ladies operating the machine talked to no end.

'_First a flight from Argentina to England which takes over 24 hours, and just when I want a war cup of tea, this happens!'_

"Excuse me, but could you hurry up? I need to get my luggage," he asked politely.

The girl blinked, and smiled, "Why certainly!" She magically finished the tea then, and handed it back to him with the wise advice of, "be careful-it's hot!" He sighed at her advice. He was a country, and a very cold one at that. The chances of him dying, or becoming injured, by a mere hot drink were like the chances of Australia getting a brain-freeze by eating a cold ice-cream or something, ridiculous, and nigh impossible, seeing that Australia had one the 'Country that ate the most Ice-Cream' award in 2007.

After (finally) getting away from the cafe, he followed the signs, which ended up confusing him, and making him have to ask directions, to where the carousel was supposed to be. He glared at the signs angrily, willing them to make sense, like they did for everyone else. 'Maybe I've been living in snow for too long?' Antarctica gave another sigh and followed a man he had seen on the plane, the one who had eaten the huge burger. He shivered ate the memory of what remained of it.

The Burger-Man, of which he had dubbed the man he was following, seemed to know which way he was going, and slightly surprised Antarctica by not going up, yet forward when the arrow commanded it. _They still haven't perfected the art of 3D on signs yet then..._ So, thanks to The Burger-Man, he was able to get to the carousel.

His bags weren't that hard to find. Not everyone has a map of the Antarctica regions on their suitcase, and Weddell was easy to find too, especially since they seemed to have thought that the Fur Seal was a stuffed toy and not a real, living seal. The protests of Weddell only fell on Antarctica's ears though, yet were easily ignored, and easily silenced by the salmon he had swiped form the first class section of the plane, and sneaked through the airport security. So, with a content, yet still bitter Fur Seal, his suitcase and his still warm mug of tea, (which was probably rubbish), he was free to go.

Antarctica waited outside for roughly 20 minutes for this 'someone' who was going to pick him up. If he was right, it was going to be England, unless Arthur had something else to attend to, but then it would've been another country, like Ireland, even though the chances of Ireland doing a favour for England were rather low. But then, it could've been Wales or Scotland, or even another one of the countries that currently relied on England. It could've been France, but those odds were low enough to be counted as a near 0. But it could've also been...

A horn shook him out of his thoughts, and he saw a bored England in the car in front of him. The old nation sighed, and gestured to the back seat. Antarctica smiled in thanks, and opened the back door and slid in. So it seemed his first guess was correct after all...

"So, what have you been doing, Antarctica?" asked Arthur, "And also, if you don't mind my asking, what brings you here? Australia only said that, 'Maws-' sorry, 'Antarctica needs to be picked up'," Antarctica glared at Arthur for his slip-up.

"Australia told me to," He replied, "He didn't tell me who was picking me up, nor where I was going until I picked up the plane tickets."

England nodded understandingly, "He is hyped for the Olympic Games, and probably forgot to tell you. He has done the same to me too, on numerous occasions. He once forgot to tell me that America decided to host the bloody world conference in my country, until what, an hour before? Bloody git made me look like fool!" England seemed to seethe at the memory, murmuring something under his breath which sounded like curses in another language that sounded like Latin.

Rather determined to change the subject so that he wouldn't have to listen to more of the weird language, Antarctica asked, "Are your brothers home?"

England snapped out of it, and said, "No. They went on holiday to somewhere. I did not bother to check their ticket."

"Oh..." Antarctica decided that was rather unthoughtful, yet also decided it was best he kept his own thoughts and opinions to himself in front of Arthur.

England sighed, "And they didn't even say goodbye! It was just a note on my refrigerator that told me they were leaving!" The car pulled up into England's driveway, "And it seems we also beat the rush hour of London traffic...Now, come on! The sooner I get you inside, the sooner I can watch Top Gear!"

Antarctica glanced up at the huge old castle, and smiled at the passing thought of, _'Does this place even HAVE a stable connection?'_.

* * *

Second chapter, yaayy...*unenthusiastic*

Well, the current words are at 1888. Is that kinda lucky?

Well, I don't own Hetalia, or anything else, except for Weddell and Antarctica. And Arctic, whom for some reason is dead...

Two questions, what do any of you know about John 'Black' Caesar, and two, if you are going to review this, can you please give constructive criticism? Please?

And also, thank you Wirewolf and Midoriiro Shiba for reviewing. Thank you. Very much.


End file.
